


The Red Cavern

by Aladayle



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: No relationship as of yet, Several thousand years after the game, The reader is an archaeologist, XReader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9472295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aladayle/pseuds/Aladayle
Summary: You're an archaeologist who's come to the biggest find in decades. The ruins of a building long since gone rest atop a red crystalline cavern, and the deeper you go, the darker the crystal is. Until you find a statue...





	

The discovery of the ruins had caused quite a stir in the archaeological community. 

There were legends in the history books of a war some several thousand years ago with the very gods, whispers of demons called "espers" and references here and there to something called "magicite," but those things were now almost strictly the business of historians and anthropologists. 

And then, one day, according to the legends, it had all come crashing down. In one final cataclysm, all of these allegedly magical things had utterly vanished. And though no one knew for sure what this disaster was, one thing was for certain--it had centered on this point. 

The site of the ruins. 

"(Y/n), it's good to see you here." The speaker was an older gentleman, one you'd gone on a few digs with. An old friend of your father's, the latter of whom had (of this you were certain) pulled strings to get you onto this project. 

"Lenny! Are you the one they're putting in charge?" you asked, "The museum didn't give me much information other than 'get here, NOW.'" 

"No, it's you," he replied, "Really? They didn't give you any more than that?" 

"No. Now what are we looking at?" 

"We're not sure. We're about to break through another wall." 

"Are you sure that's safe?" you asked. "And for that matter--" 

"We've got a grant riding on this one. We're going to have to take a few risks." 

"A grant is not worth anyone's life," you snapped, "Come on. Where's the entrance?" 

"Over this way." Lenny lead you over toward what had looked at first like a tent. Once you moved through the flaps, though, you noted that it covered a crude staircase. 

"Aren't we going to need some kind of a lamp?" you asked, "A flashlight? Anything?" 

"No." 

In fact, there was a single light about halfway down the stairs, stuck against the wall. But once you were at the bottom, there was light of a different sort from up ahead. 

You followed the tunnel, curious about its source, and rounded a corner, completely puzzled about the dim red glow. 

"What is this place?" you gasped. 

Rather than singular veins, as was the normal way of things with various ores, this crystal was... 

It was _everywhere_. 

You noticed something else as you followed the crystalline passage. It was getting darker in hue as you moved, although the light itself was unchanged. 

"It's getting darker," you said, "Lenny, what are the current theories?" 

"Some kind of precious gem," he replied, "If you ask some of them. Maybe even what started the war, considering the ruins. Others are mentioning that word again, 'magicite,' although we're having trouble obtaining a sample." 

"What methods have been attempted?" 

"Saws...we've had some of the stronger ones attempt tearing it off by hand...someone else suggested lasers, even, but nothing makes a dent in this stuff." 

"What about radiation?" you asked suddenly. "Suppose this is some kind of dumping ground, and--?" 

"We detected none of that here." 

Lenny led you through a veritable rabbit's warren of passages, to where you assumed the main encampment was. There were machines of every sort set out, and a cartographer that you recognized seemed to be poring over a map. 

"How's it going?" Lenny called out. 

"You could say well," came the reply, "They're going mad in there. Reporters haven't shown up yet, thank god, though I don't doubt they'll be hammering the door down once we figure out what the hell's going on around here." 

"Have you found any relics?" you asked, "Any hints of--" 

"Leonard!" came an older man's shout from further down, "Get in here! We just broke into a whole new--" 

The rumble of falling rock sounded off, although due to a lack of frenzied shouting or cries for help you assumed it was planned. 

Lenny followed, as did you, and the cartographer returned to his work. 

You had to duck to get through the little tunnel that had been made (and, you noted, the red crystals ran here the darkest of all, like fresh blood), but once you could raise your head, your eyes widened. 

You'd moved into a cathedral-sized room, with a passage at its back leading off someplace else. The main draw of it was not the exit, but the statue that reached from floor to ceiling along one side of the wall. 

"(Y/n), I'm Garrett. It's good that you're here." The seeming owner of the shouting voice from before stepped forward. 

"I still don't understand why _my_ being here is good," you answered, "But I'll do what I can to make sense of this." 

"Then tell us, what do you make of _that_?" 

You looked up at the statue; it was entirely comprised of the same bloodred crystal as had lead you here, and for a split second seemed almost to pulse. But a second glance revealed no more. 

It was meant to be a human, that was for certain; it was carved like a muscular and fair-faced man, though the mortal relation ended there. From his back there were extended six wings, four of the feathered variety, and two, the lowest of all, of the batlike sort. His body reminded you of that of the statues of Greek gods, muscle, and definition came to mind looking at him. And as if to break from this serious mold, a carved feather sprouted from the back of his head. 

His feet were grounded on a pedestal of stone, and you went forward to look at the words inscribed. 

Thankfully, though it was an ancient language, it was one your father had instructed you well on, and the text read: 

HIGHEST IS THE GOD OF MAGIC, WHO SHOWS US THE MEANINGLESS OF CLINGING TO LIFE. LIVE BY HIS COMMAND, AND BLESSED BE THOSE WHO PERISH IN THE FREEDOM OF HIS JUDGMENT'S LIGHT. 

"Who is he?" someone in the crowd behind you asked. 

The god of magic, whose followers obviously desired to die by his light? 

You _knew_ this one, but from where? Your father had mentioned the name once, but when you had asked for more information had shut up like a clam. 

"I may have to borrow some of my family's literature," you replied, "But I'm fairly certain they have some information on this...whoever he is." 

Some of the loonier members of your family had been said to worship a magic god, though you saw them too little to get many details. 

Discomfort had settled over you, but you remained silent. A find like this came along once in a lifetime, and you would take full advantage of it.


End file.
